The Boiler Room
by angrymermaids
Summary: A collection of short fics about the wonderful crack pairing of Prince Zuko and Lieutenant Jee, and all that it implies: music night, sparring, alcohol, supply-closet makeouts, uncomfortable age differences, and questionable professionalism.
1. Good Work

A/N: My goodness, this pairing. It is like crack. It IS crack.

Anyway, this collection is basically an outlet for all of the Jeeko bits that I can't put in _Three Years at Sea,_ drabbles and oneshots and flashfic and stuff like that. None of this is in any particular order, all the chapters are independent unless otherwise specified, and the ratings will vary (probably nothing above a T, though).

The "pilot episode" for all of this is actually in my Avatar 500 collection, Prompt 26, "Between the Storms." Read that first!

As usual, I'm always up for concrit.

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><p><strong>Good Work<strong> (T)

"I never thought I'd meet a commander who didn't want the respect of his men," Jee remarked as he poured two drinks, one for himself and one for Zuko.

The prince frowned as he accepted the glass. "But I do," he said.

"No, you _expect_ it. Commanders who actually want respect do things to earn it." He sat down across from Zuko. Their knees bumped together, causing the younger man to blush slightly. Zuko took a drink to hide his sudden coloration and frowned down at his cup.

"Like what?"

"First treat _them_ with respect. Acknowledge the dignity of every man and they will reciprocate."

Zuko said nothing. Now that he thought about it, it made sense, sort of. But he didn't want to let on that he had no idea how to put it into practice. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, whatever), Jee read his expression without anything being explained.

"Show interest in their lives. Be sincere." The lieutenant tossed back his drink. "I bet you couldn't give five personal details about any combination of men on your own crew, not including me."

"Of course I can," Zuko shot back.

"Prove it."

After a moment of struggling to gather up what he remembered, Zuko realized with a thrill of horror that he was right. He wracked his brain for something... anything... he vaguely remembered _hearing_ about the crew's personal lives, but for the most part he couldn't recall the specifics. He hadn't thought it important to pay attention.

That was a tough bit of pride to swallow, but he managed. He looked back up at Jee, whose face thankfully showed no derision.

"There are other things you can do. Raise them up by treating them as your equals. Speak as a man to another man, not as a prince to his subject. Leave your ideas about Homeland superiority and noble entitlement on the shore." Jee raised an eyebrow at Zuko's puzzled, slightly dubious expression.

Everything the prince had learned in his palace education told him that these men were not his equals and that he owed them nothing in return for their allegiance, but his first-hand experience in his years at sea said otherwise.

"It takes practice, yes. But it's important." Jee's gruff voice was unusually warm, and something in it made Zuko blush harder—he didn't even try to hide it this time. He nodded, still saying nothing. None of this had ever occurred to him until now, but now he realized that it should have. His uncle commanded the crew's respect in an effortless way that he never could. He now understood how it was done.

"...I'll try."

"You might start with something even easier. Acknowledge their hard work. Say things like... 'nice job, Corporal.' Or 'good work, Sergeant.' Or even 'smooth sailing, Helmsman.'" That made Zuko smile just a bit. He made a note to use that one sometime, though it probably wouldn't sound quite as natural. Maybe he should just start with the basics.

Later, when Zuko lay on Jee's bed with his clothes on the floor and a breathless smile on his flushed face, he curled his fingers in his lover's hair and kissed him on the top of his head.

"Good work, Lieutenant."

Jee just chuckled into Zuko's neck. "You're a dork."

"Whatever. I'm _your_ dork."


	2. A Sailor's Date

A/N: I usually write these when I'm bored in class. Also, I feel like they suck, so please tell me what I could do better.

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><p><strong>A Sailor's Date <strong>(K++)

He never thought he had it in him, the raging jealousy that was the driving motivation behind gruesome rumors common at any port, actual news stories that were tarted up and printed on broadsides as both sensational entertainment and words of warning. Rumors of men murdering their cheating girlfriends and women poisoning the evening tea of unfaithful husbands. Stories about cuckolds stabbing their wives' lovers, or schoolgirls cornering their romantic rivals in alleyways and beating the living daylights out of them.

Sure, Zuko had been jealous before. He felt that crawling, painful anger in his blood whenever Azula ordered Mai to leave him behind and accompany her instead. He wanted to grab Mai's hand and drag her away. He wanted to have her all to himself.

This wasn't like that. This was worse.

Maybe it was because the only physical contact between him and Mai was infrequent hand-holding and exactly four fleeting kisses on the cheek. There was something exciting bubbling under the surface, the suggestion of some future relationship that neither of them could understand at that moment in their lives.

But this wasn't the same thing. He was a man now. This wasn't the shy, halting desire of two innocent children. But at the same time, he didn't know what it was.

A fling? Maybe, but Zuko hated the word.

"Romance" sounded tawdry, and simply didn't fit.

He thought of words he had heard at court that he had not connected to illicit sex until much later. Affair. Tryst. Liaison. "Involvement."

No, none of those words were right, either.

"Come to the bar with me," Jee had said when they docked earlier that day. Zuko had quickly accepted the offer. He'd gone out with the crew before, but only a scant handful of times, for special occasions like the summer solstice or a great victory over pirates or traitors. It had been the whole crew, though, with Zuko leaving unnoticed after only a short while, and no one had ever bought _him_ a drink.

It had been fine, at first. Neither of them said much, which was all right, since neither of them said much to begin with. But as time passed, Zuko wondered why Jee had invited him to the bar at all if he was just going to talk to everyone _else_ the whole time. The conversation flowed smoothly between Jee and whoever he was talking to, soldier or sailor, male or female. The prince's hand tightened on his cup and he tried to force it out of his mind. But he couldn't. Questions and doubts and little sparks of frustration clamored in his mind, and eventually he could think of nothing else.

He had sworn that he wouldn't be that person. Clingy, annoying, dependent, and... well, unmanly. He told himself that that wouldn't happen, no matter who he was with. He didn't want to be like that. It was ugly and hateful and embarrassing just to think about.

So why did he feel this sick flower of jealousy blossoming in his chest, burning and spreading and taking over?

The man next to Jee said something that made him laugh. Zuko took a sip of his drink only to find it steaming hot from the angry heat of his hand.

Jee laughed again, and something in Zuko snapped. He grabbed the lieutenant's wrist and pulled him away from the bar, out of the building, and into the night. Jee did not resist—good. Maybe he already knew why Zuko was doing this.

The older man crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting. Zuko turned slightly, unsure of what to say.

What _could_ he say? How did one tell his companion that he was kind of jealous, while still retaining his dignity?

"Why did you invite me out if you're just..." What? Zuko couldn't think of anything to finish his sentence, and when he did, he couldn't seem to form words.

_If you're just going to talk to other people? What are you trying to prove? Three nonstop weeks at sea, two of them spent with me, and the first thing you do on land is go to a bar and accept attention from everyone around you. Why take me with you, then? I mean, we both knew when it all started that whatever this is between us can't last, but I didn't think it would be forgotten this quickly. It's obvious that you want someone better-looking, more experienced, safer, older..._

Still he said nothing.

Both of them were silent for a moment, their lack of speech underscored by rowdy laughter from within the bar and the sound of waves crashing out beyond the harbor.

Jee reached out and took Zuko's chin in his hand, holding it in a firm but gentle grip. "Don't be dumb, prince," he said. Zuko glared up at him. "Just because I talk to other people doesn't mean I forgot that I brought you with me." The prince didn't respond, still glaring. "It's called socializing. You should try it sometime." He gave Zuko a peck on the forehead and released his chin.

"I don't like talking to people. And I don't like crowds."

"I know."

"Then why did you ask me to come with you?" Zuko's frown deepened and he crossed his arms. Despite the show he was putting on, he felt the built-up anger and tension slowly drip away, released by Jee's genuine, if blunt, words. The cool, quiet night air all around him also helped, instead of the warmth and clamor of too many bodies in varying states of drunkenness pressing in on him.

Jee shrugged. "Thought you might enjoy going out in a different context than usual."

"Well, I didn't."

"That's too bad."

"I don't care."

The lieutenant frowned. "Then what would you prefer, _highness_?"

Zuko glanced back at the docks. He felt his cheeks heat up, and he was glad for the weak light coming from the dim lanterns outside every building on the street. That meant Jee couldn't see him blush. His blushes were ridiculous—his whole head seemed to glow pink.

"Want to go back to the ship?"

Jee smirked. "I knew you were going to say that."

"What can I say. I'm predictable."

"Nothing wrong with knowing what you like."

Zuko's lips twitched with just a hint of amusement. He turned slowly on his heel and headed back toward the docks and the dark, empty hulk of his ship, his lieutenant following close behind him.


	3. The Visitor

A/N: This silliness was partially inspired by "The Cut Sleeve" by Delphi, found on AO3. I highly recommend it-might want to make sure no one else is around first, because _hot damn_ that fic is sexy. And I don't usually like super-sexy fic.

Probably my favorite chapter in the collection so far. Let me know what you think!

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><p>Four days since the storm, and Prince Zuko was strangely quiet. He pored over his charts as usual, marking broad, frustrated strokes with a short, gnawed pencil. He spoke little, mostly to his uncle. When he did speak to a crew member, it was short and terse—in fact, he left as much of the talking as he could to his uncle and his officers, and seemed reluctant to speak to anyone when it became necessary to do so.<p>

It took a little while, but eventually Jee started to wonder if this was how it had always been, if Zuko had always been this reserved or if he had just dismissed it as sullen snobbery when it was clearly more than that. Certainly, he still had his infamous foul moods, extended sulking periods and filthy bursts of temper. But they seemed to hide more than they revealed about what went on inside that bald head of his.

Jee had been curious about him at the beginning of the voyage almost three years ago. That hadn't lasted long. He was surprised to find his curiosity poking through once again, like a small animal emerging from its hole at the start of spring. His perception of the prince had changed, certainly. Instead of being just a bratty teenage punk, he was a bratty teenage punk trying to deal with something that Jee personally could not imagine.

But maybe Zuko had learned something as well. Jee stood by his belief that Zuko had needed to hear what he'd said to him, embarrassingly tactless delivery aside. The requisite apologies for insubordination had already been made and accepted. Nothing else needed to be said.

"Sir."

The prince's head jerked up. His hand tightened visibly on his pencil.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"The dock workers just packed in the rest of the supplies. We're ready to sail whenever you give the order, sir."

"Is there any news of the Avatar?"

"Yes, actually. The word from town is that he was last seen near Makapu Village."

"Earth Kingdom, hidden in the mountains," Zuko said absently. "Not powerful enough to house some sort of resistance, no significant resources. I wonder why he would go there." He drummed the dull, chewed end of his pencil on the table. "I wonder why he does_ anything_."

It was true. Jee had noticed as well. For all that the Avatar was supposed to restore balance to the world, whatever that meant, all actions by the little airbender against the Fire Nation seemed accidental. Aside from that mad dash into Fire Nation waters, of course. That seemed to be the only deliberate thing he had done to further his cause. All the others... not so much.

Kyoshi Island was isolationist, and too small and unimportant to be bothered. Word was that he stopped in Omashu not long after that—the gossip in port was that the king was completely mad and the city due to be taken over within the year. Not a particularly promising base for an Avatar looking to fight back. The rebellion on the offshore rig was, according to witnesses, not even the Avatar's doing at all, even though one of his little Water Tribe friends was supposedly involved. Since then they had only been seen a few times near tiny villages, camping out in the middle of nowhere.

What were they doing? What were they waiting for? Or maybe they were on the run, pure and simple. They had few places left to go, and they were far away from anywhere strong enough to support them.

Kind of like the prince, really.

Zuko looked mildly frustrated as he stared down at the map. He was now rolling his pencil between his fingers. Jee had never noticed how short his nails were—it looked like they were bitten down to the quick (and had been for some time), and painfully pink near the corners. A nervous habit, perhaps. It seemed likely, now that Jee thought about it.

He had also never noticed how fine the bones in his hands were. A last reminder that he was, in fact, royalty—it was rather easy to forget that Prince Zuko had been raised in the royal palace, that this scarred, nail-biting young man who could drink and swear as much as any other sailor had a pedigree that went back to the fire spirits themselves.

He looked up from the map. His eyes narrowed slightly, making Jee realize that he had been staring instead of finishing his report as he'd intended. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Sir, the word in town also says that Makapu Village was completely buried in a volcanic eruption at about the same time that the Avatar was there. I don't know if that changes anything—"

It did. Zuko's face immediately contorted in a fierce scowl that looked all too normal on him.

"He's trying to cover his tracks. If he was there, he would have done something to save the village. That's what he _does_. Clearly he's spreading the rumor that the village was destroyed so _we_ won't know that he was there in the first place."

"It... was a _volcano_. Sir."

"So what? He's the master of all the elements."

"He's an untrained little boy. I doubt he or his friends could have done anything to stop it," Jee reasoned.

"Maybe they couldn't stop the volcano itself, but they could have moved everyone else out of the way." His frown deepened. "Either way, he did something. I know it. He always does something." He waved his hand as if to say "go away," and Jee was dismissed. The lieutenant had long since stopped taking it personally when the prince did things like that—so he had no manners. That wasn't Jee's problem.

o.O.o

Zuko was training again.

He seemed to use exercise as an outlet for his frustration, which was admirable in theory, but it was insufficient to process the sheer amount of frustration he had within himself—even after a long training session he still had plenty left to take out on the crew. Either that or it just plain wasn't working.

The General had originally been supervising his practice, but he'd gone inside a long time ago. Zuko remained on the deck, running through his forms in full armor in order to build endurance—that, and the weather only got colder as they entered the upper latitudes. They didn't know where the Avatar was, specifically, but "keep heading north and watch the sky" had been the strategy thus far, and it seemed to be working.

Jee had work to do. He didn't plan on stopping to watch him on his way down to the hold. But he paused at the doorway and just stood there, feeling almost like someone was telling him to stop. He realized that by standing motionless and saying nothing, he escaped Zuko's attention altogether—the prince was too absorbed in his practice, it seemed. Then he noticed that he was doing it with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Sir," he said once the form was completed. Zuko looked at him, but otherwise didn't answer. "Why do you train with your eyes closed?"

The prince gave Jee a very long, suspicious look, as if trying to discern a hidden meaning in the question.

"My uncle used to train me with a blindfold," he said finally. "He wanted me to not rely on my eyesight so much."

"...Does it work?"

Zuko shrugged. "Yeah."

"Show me," Jee said. He'd forgotten all about the things he had to do. Instead, he assumed a bending stance and invited Zuko to attack him, but with his eyes closed. They hadn't had a sparring match for a while. Not since the storm, in fact. Not since they'd almost gotten into a _real_ fight.

Zuko didn't hesitate. He shut his eyes tightly once more and started with a high kick—when Jee blocked the flames and countered with a low punch, he easily darted out of the way and attacked with a series of kicks, no hesitation involved.

He was good, Jee had to admit. This didn't seem to be fueled by general anger towards the world and everything in it, the way his bending usually was. Even though his face was screwed up in concentration and he was biting his lower lip probably hard enough to bruise, his movements were more fluid, more in tune with his fire and the movement of the ship under his feet. He didn't even look like he was _trying_ to dodge Jee's fire, he just did it automatically. He was listening to every tiny sound, feeling every rise in temperature that surrounded a flame, probably smelling the warm, smoky air that followed every fire blast. He was a bit more defensive than when he had his eyes open—he wasn't confident attacking like this, apparently. Perhaps he was compensating for the feeling of vulnerability that came with neutralizing one of his senses.

Jee didn't think that was necessary. But pointing it out wouldn't be wise, or even very polite—Zuko took great pains to never appear vulnerable. That much had been obvious since day one.

"Try attacking more," he said. "You're defending more than usual."

Zuko frowned a little and lashed out with renewed vigor. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Even though he'd clearly been practicing like this for years, he still wasn't quite comfortable, and this was taking all of his concentration.

A well-placed kick from Jee broke his balance and sent him to the deck. Forgetting that Zuko hated to be offered help, Jee extended a hand. The prince frowned at it for a moment before getting up on his own. He cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms over his head—practice was over.

"That was good, sir," Jee said. Zuko stared at him some more, as if he wasn't sure what to make of the compliment. "I would have never considered blindfolding as a training technique."

"My eyesight's... not that great. I have to use what I've got," Zuko said. There was a touch of bitterness in his voice.

Jee had experienced more almost-seditious thoughts over the past week than he'd ever had in his entire life, directed toward the Firelord and his supporters and the whole damn system. Most of the time they were easy to squash down so he could continue with his duties. This time... it was a bit more difficult.

He'd never felt like this before. It was unnerving.

Best to put it out of his mind. There was nothing he could do, anyway.

"You're doing very well, sir. Do you want to give it another try?"

The harsh frown lines around Zuko's eyes softened a little. Jee was almost certain he'd just seen the Zuko version of a smile.

o.O.o

Jee had just drifted off to sleep when he heard his door open and close as quietly as possible. A pair of bare feet quickly crossed the floor, and Jee didn't even need to wonder who it was—he could think of no one else who would enter without knocking, in the middle of the night, with an objective that was clearly not anything to do with the ship or the voyage.

He'd had a few suspicions about this. Seeing the way Zuko had been interacting with him of late, so different from the way he interacted with his uncle or the rest of the crew...

He couldn't say he was surprised now that his suspicions were confirmed. Pleased, though. Definitely.

"Couldn't sleep, sir?"

Zuko answered his question by climbing into bed next to him. He was close enough that his unbound ponytail tickled Jee's neck—the lieutenant could feel his heart beating against his arm. He shivered a little. Even though it was dark, he was certain he could feel Zuko staring at him.

He smelled like soap and warm pajamas, and just a hint of sweat. What Jee could feel of him—which was quite a lot, since he was pressed up close—was surprisingly soft. So different from how he usually was: all dark metal armor, straight lines, and a cold, private manner paired with a quick temper and a sharp tongue. Like all the other men on board, he smelled of coal, metal, and fire. Sometimes he didn't seem completely real, just an image of a person, since he lacked the warmth that was just as much a part of fire as anger.

But... he felt nothing but real in this moment. Real and inviting.

Jee gritted his teeth. He had to be the voice of reason here, since Zuko was never the voice of reason for anyone, especially not himself. He had to _not_ think about how good the prince smelled or how warm his body was.

"Sir, what are you doing here?"

"I thought that was obvious," Zuko replied. His voice stayed low, but it sounded like he was frowning.

"Yes. But _why_?"

Zuko shifted slightly. The clean scent that lingered around him brought images to Jee's mind of a charmingly normal evening routine—cleaning and storing his armor, taking off his boots and placing them neatly at the foot of his bed. Unwinding the tight red ribbon in his hair and shaking his ponytail loose. Washing shaving, undressing—

No. Not right now. He had to be rational now.

"You want me. I can tell."

He got that right, at least.

Jee sighed. "Why are _you_ here?"

Zuko hesitated. Some small part of Jee's mind realized what a rare privilege this was, that Zuko wanted to get this close to him. The prince hated to be touched, even by accident. He seemed to tolerate his uncle's frequent pats on the shoulder, at least until he lost his patience and snapped "stop touching me" or something similar, but... this was completely different than that. The more Jee thought about it, the less he was sure what to do.

Zuko knew that Jee wasn't going to hurt him. _That_ was for sure. And given his history with such things...

Something warm stirred within Jee's chest.

"You've always been honest with me," Zuko said finally. "I like it when people are honest with me. It doesn't happen very often."

The warm stirring fluttered a little.

No. That still wasn't good enough. All that told Jee was that Zuko was so unused to showing gratitude that he had no idea how to do it properly. He didn't _really _think Zuko thought it was appropriate to respond to any act of honesty by creeping into the bearer's bed in the middle of the night, but he still needed a better reason. No matter how good it felt to have Zuko's warm body pressed close to his, Jee wasn't going to take advantage of his impulsiveness. Zuko needed to know—and be able to vocalize—why he was here and what he wanted.

"You're not here because _I _want you or because _I_ was honest with you. What do _you_ want and why do you want it?"

"I want _you_," Zuko said. He sounded annoyed at being forced to explain himself. That, and he felt a little warmer than before. Was he blushing?

"Why?"

"Why do I need a reason? I just do."

Jee was about to argue some more, but he realized that he already had his answer. Trust. Respect. A bit of a crush, and a heaping dose of teenage horniness. He did remember what it was like to be sixteen, after all.

Zuko might have been terrible at articulating his thoughts, but it seemed that he was very good at _showing_ them. When he wanted to, at least.

Jee's hand started to wander before he even realized what he was doing. His fingers brushed down Zuko's shoulder—the firm muscles twitched beneath his cotton robe. He was close enough that Jee could feel his quick, shallow breath on his neck.

"Do you know what you're doing, sir?"

"Of course I do." A defensive tone entered his voice. He didn't, then. No matter. It wouldn't be the first time—or probably the last—that Jee had helped a boy become a man. And he hadn't really expected Zuko to admit that he'd never been with anyone like _this_ before.

A horrible thought sprang into Jee's mind. He jerked his hand back from here he had been tracing the outline of Zuko's jaw.

"Your uncle."

"What about him?" Zuko grumbled.

"He... would not approve." And that was putting it lightly. Jee didn't know _exactly_ what General Iroh would do if he found out about any of this, but the more he thought about it, the further the chill within him spread.

But it turned into a shiver of anticipation when Zuko leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

"My uncle won't know unless you tell him," he said. His hand moved across Jee's bare chest, tracing the shape of the muscles under the skin and lingering over old scars. "_I'm_ not saying anything."

Jee was still apprehensive. The idea of facing the General's wrath, especially where Zuko was concerned, was an extremely worrisome possibility, but...

He had nothing to fear. None of this would leave the room. Zuko wouldn't tell. Jee wouldn't say anything, either.

It had been a long time since Jee had been this close to anyone, male or female—a hell of a long time since he'd had a warm, strong, young body to touch, or indeed, anyone who would touch him in return. There were any number of options in port for a sailor far from home. But that route had never really appealed to Jee—there was something different about it when he knew that his partners were truly willing and not just going through the motions for the sake of a few silver coins.

And Zuko was certainly willing.

In his eagerness, Jee might have been a little too rough, maybe not quite gentle enough for a young person's first time. Even so, Zuko enjoyed himself very much—that much was obvious—and he reciprocated clumsily, but ardently. Afterward, he rested his head on Jee's extended arm while he caught his breath.

A smile flickered across his lips, so briefly that Jee wasn't sure he'd seen it at all.

And then he was gone. He picked up his robe, crossed the room, and closed Jee's door behind him before the lieutenant had gathered the words that might make him stay a little longer.

Jee sighed and leaned back in bed. The spot where Zuko had been was still warm. It even still smelled like him.

Next time. Next time he would figure out how to get him to stay.

o.O.o

The next morning on the bridge, Jee was still thinking about how he could possibly get Zuko to spend a bit more time with him. Perhaps not the whole night, but longer than the time it took for him to grab his stuff and leave.

Maybe they could get to know each other a little better.

He frowned. What was he doing, thinking about "next time"? For all he knew, Zuko had just used him to satisfy a purely physical need, nothing more. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had done that to him.

But...

No. He didn't know exactly why (but he had a few ideas), but he didn't really think that Zuko would do that to him. Or anyone else he decided to get that close to.

The prince himself appeared on the bridge a few minutes later. Not a trace of the warm, nice-smelling, almost vulnerable young man from last night remained. He was back to his usual self: armor, severe ponytail, permanent frown, straight back, shiny boots, all of it.

He nodded in Jee's direction. "Lieutenant."

"Sir," Jee replied, nodding as well.

"Is any news of the Avatar?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He seems to have disappeared after Makapu Village, but he can't have gone very far in that amount of time."

"Hmm. Carry on, Lieutenant." He walked back the way he came, passing very close by Jee as he did so. Discreetly, he transferred a balled-up scrap of paper, into Jee's hand on his way out. Jee waited until he was completely gone before opening it.

_I guess I left my pants in your cabin last night. I'll be back to retrieve them tonight, if that's fine with you._

Jee stifled a laugh as he dropped the ashy remains of the paper onto the floor.


	4. Before and After

A/N: This one isn't very slashy. Sorry.

There are some backstory references in this one that will make more sense if you're following 3YS, but it's not necessary.

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><p>No matter where he came from, every sailor knew about music night. Not everyone liked to participate, but there was no easier way to get used to one's new shipmates than to spend an evening playing, singing, or listening.<p>

The atmosphere around the fire was a little awkward—it always was in the beginning, before a new crew got to know each other and _especially_ before they figured out their new commander's stance on alcohol. But it was a nice night and everyone knew the music. It was almost easy to forget that none of them knew where they were going or how long they would be gone.

Jee, for one, was grateful for the opportunity in spite of its vague, ominous nature. If not for this new assignment, he'd still be on land, alone in a tiny apartment, playing his pipa for no one but his cat (who was deaf, to boot).

"'Four Seasons, Four Loves'?" he suggested. Everyone knew that song.

It came along nicely—if this was how the crew played together when they'd only known each other for a day, then Jee was looking forward to what they could do after a few months, or even a few weeks. It was a known fact that General Iroh enjoyed music; maybe he would be interested in joining in—those who had served with him at Ba Sing Se suggested that he might.

The jury was still out on Prince Zuko, however. He was thirteen years old, had been seriously injured in a training accident a few days ago, and was now banished for some reason. Beyond that... he was a mystery. But maybe he'd be into music, same as his uncle.

The song concluded. Very nice. Jee reached up to tighten one of the tuning pegs on his instrument before they began the next song.

A flutter of movement drew his eye to the doorway. Prince Zuko was sitting on the floor right inside, his slippered feet visible against the darkness of the corridor. His knees were drawn up to his chest—his arms, too, had the gangly look of a teenager just starting to sprout upwards like a bamboo stalk. His face was out of sight, but Jee knew that it was swathed in bandages. He'd seen him yesterday as he boarded the ship looking pale and woozy, like he wanted nothing more than to lie down for a while. The lieutenant didn't blame him.

He hesitated a moment before speaking.

"It's all right, sir," he said. "You can come on out, if you want."

He didn't. The feet darted out of sight, and the sailors put him out of their minds in favor of starting a new song.

o.O.o

Jee made the mistake of assuming that this encounter would serve as a preview for all future interactions with the prince.

He learned right away that Zuko was _not_ shy, he did _not_ secretly want to be included in social gatherings, he hated music, and he was completely intolerable. His mere presence made Jee want to slap him around until he stopped being such an ass. It was easier at first to show him a little charity; Jee knew that he personally was terrible to others when he was in pain, and Zuko was clearly suffering behind that half-mask of bandages.

But his demeanor didn't change, not after the bandages were removed, or even after months and eventually _years_ passed at sea. That's it, Jee was done. He believed that everyone deserved one chance, but he wasn't as liberal with second chances. He granted Zuko a few on account of his age and the fact that they were stuck on this floating metal prison together. But his patience wore thin and before long he gave up entirely.

Who knew what made the prince creep out to listen to Music Night that first day on the ship. It never happened again and Jee soon forgot about it altogether.

o.O.o

Time lost all meaning for the crew as every single man aboard struggled to keep the ship in one piece. They had to get to safety—they couldn't stay within the eye of the storm forever, and who knew what the storm's violence had done to the ship beyond the lightning damage to the bridge deck.

No one knew how long it had been since the beginning of the storm to the moment they motored slowly into port, exhausted, beaten, and soaked to the bone. Hours. Maybe a day.

It could have been much, much worse. The only injury was the helmsman's dislocated shoulder, which was easy enough to fix, and infinitely preferable to the alternative. Nothing was damaged beyond repair or too expensive to replace, though all of the cargo in the hold had slid around and some of it had broken open, dousing everything else in pickled fish. There wasn't a thing that was still in its proper place anywhere on the ship.

All of the strings on Jee's pipa were broken. That was the final straw. He knew that it could very well have been smashed to bits by his chair flying around the cabin, but seeing all of the strings perfectly severed was almost worse in his worn-down state. The Universe was toying with him. That was all. His life almost felt like the pipa sometimes. The Universe never up and killed him when it would have been convenient, it just let him live and suffer a new indignity every day.

He sighed. Well, he wasn't up for music night tonight, and he didn't think that anyone else was, either. It was fine. And he was too tired to get angry about something so unimportant. He just wanted to rest, but there were still things he had to do first. Supervise. Manage. Babysit.

It was still raining outside. That was fine too. A little rain never hurt anyone. At least they weren't still out at sea, battling the wind and waves the size of mountains.

Jee descended the stairs into the hold to check on the cleanup progress. He paused, however, when he noticed a dark figure sitting in the corner.

Prince Zuko, asleep. His head rested against the wall. His mouth was slightly open and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Jee was about to wake him up—everyone else was still working—but something stopped him.

The kid looked so _tired_. Not just the regular kind of tired that came after surviving a storm. He looked beaten, worn down. Burdened with all the pain, stress, humiliation, and frustration that had been heaped on him for the past three years until he couldn't take it anymore. Getting through the storm—not to mention the probable adrenaline crash after the rush of saving the helmsman had worn off—was just too much. Spirits, he looked like he was so tired that he couldn't even climb the stairs, so he crept into a dark corner and called it good.

It was easy to forget that the prince was only sixteen years old. Still a boy, for all he tried to act like a grown man.

Jee didn't have the heart to wake him. Not after everything that had happened.

There was a blanket among the debris in the hold. It was a little damp, but better than nothing—Jee shook it out and, somewhat awkwardly, draped it over Zuko's vulnerable form. Zuko didn't stir.

That was good. Jee wasn't sure what he would say if Zuko happened to approach him later and ask him why he'd bothered to cover him with a blanket, when all evidence from the past three years supported the fact that the lieutenant hated him.

Maybe hate was too strong of a word. _Strongly dislike_. That was better.


	5. Age and Treachery

A/N: For WanderingSwain and Nele, who (indirectly) inspired this fic and then encouraged me to write it.

This is definitely the most explicit I've gotten in fic! Tell me what you think!

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><p>Jee couldn't remember what he'd said, exactly, that made Zuko catch on. He certainly hadn't come right out and said what he'd been stewing over for the past few weeks. No, it had been more of a passive-aggressive insinuation, which is what he was best at.<p>

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, or even think. The idea had burned on the tip of his tongue for at least eleven days now, running through his mind, keeping him awake, and distracting him from his daily duties whenever he let the thoughts linger beyond a moment. It was a wonder he'd said anything coherent at all.

Zuko's eyes widened, and then a thunderous frown crashed over his brow. He grabbed Jee by the collar and started dragging him down the narrow hallway.

"Sir." Zuko ignored him. "Sir! What are you doing?" Jee had to stumble to keep up, but eventually Zuko dragged him into the nearest doorway. Jee's own cabin, it turned out. Still holding Jee by the collar, he slammed and bolted the door behind him.

Warm, hard lips closed over Jee's. The kiss was fervent, eager, and _furious_... he could taste the anger mingled with desire there, everything that Zuko had never been eloquent enough to express with words. What could he do but kiss him back? The prince's hands released his collar and moved up, finally cupping his face. He was standing on his toes.

"Do you think I would want to do this if I thought you were too old for me?"

Jee had no time to wonder that this was the most rational thing he'd ever heard from him. Zuko kissed him again, a little softer this time, but not by much. His hands dropped to his shoulders, pushing him back, gently but insistently. It was _so_ very interesting how Zuko's true emotions were not evident in his speech or expression, but in his touch. It had taken a while for Jee to figure it out, but once he did, everything changed.

Zuko stopped kissing him for a moment when his back touched the wall. The room seemed to have gone very warm all of a sudden. Zuko's face was flushed-he was fumbling with something behind Jee's back, moving hastily as if trying not to waste any time.

"Sir, we're both on watch right now," Jee reminded him. "We'll be missed."

"Never mind."

_Click_.

Through the warmth and the kisses and the smell of Zuko's invitingly tender neck, Jee hadn't noticed what the prince was doing. He tried to move his hands, but Zuko had shackled both of his wrists to an exposed pipe in the wall.

Well, this was interesting.

"Where did you find the shackles, sir?"

"_Never mind_. Sit down, Lieutenant." He stowed the little iron key in his pocket and pressed down on Jee's shoulders, guiding him to the floor. He then straddled Jee's legs and busied himself with untying all the strings that held his armor together. First shoulder pads, and then chest pieces, and then the rest of it, and once the armor was gone Zuko got to work on the fastenings of Jee's shirt. The quick, almost businesslike touch of his fingers on Jee's bare skin was beyond intoxicating.

Zuko slipped in a kiss here and there, smiling as he undressed his willing prisoner. He remained fully clothed but for his unfastened belt buckle.

Jee could have watched him, and done nothing else, and been perfectly happy. Especially now that he was smiling.

Zuko's hands started to wander again. He caressed and teased, and there was renewed humor in his kisses. Jee's hands, pinned behind his back, twitched with want. He had to touch him. _Needed_ to touch him. But Zuko was definitely calling the shots this time, and there was something... rather nice about it.

His hand disappeared into Jee's pants. The lieutenant drew in a sharp breath. Zuko smiled against Jee's mouth-his kisses traveled down, to his neck and then to his chest and shoulders.

It almost seemed like he had always been this good. Their first awkward attempts together were all but forgotten in this moment, and Jee let his own body be touched and explored and pleased in exactly the right way that he'd instructed his young student in the preceding months. Zuko, for all his faults, was a quick and skillful learner.

Afterward, they both took a quiet moment to just breathe. Jee's arms ached-he _so_ wanted to hold Zuko close to him, but he couldn't. How frustrating.

"You taught me to do that," Zuko breathed into Jee's ear. He curled his fingers in his hair, sending a shiver down Jee's spine. "Yeah, you're old. But that's not a bad thing."

He pressed soft kisses to his mouth, and then his neck, and then rested his head on his shoulder-just for a moment, though, before he stood up and strode out of sight. Jee, breathless, rested his head against the pipe and tried to give his buzzing mind a chance to catch up.

A band of light from the corridor spread across the floor when Zuko left. He closed the hatch with a metallic squeak, and the sound of his footsteps quickly disappeared down the narrow hallway. Jee then realized that he was still shackled to the pipe and that the key was still in Zuko's pocket.

"Looks like I have more to teach you, brat," he muttered as he tried to twist himself free.


	6. Disappointment

A/N: Sorry, not very sexy. They can't all be like chapter 5. :P Contains further discussion of Zuko's tattoo from 3YS.

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><p>"The next person to say anything about this 'blue spirit' in my presence will be scrubbing the head for a week," Jee said. "It has nothing to do with us. So stop talking about it."<p>

Truthfully, any masked vigilante who was willing to kill the Avatar to keep him out of Fire Nation hands had a _lot_ to do with Prince Zuko's crew. But maybe if Jee was able to minimize the thief's importance, they would all shut up about him.

"But sir, no one talks about anything else in port."

"Talk about whatever you want in port, but leave it on the pier when you get back." He looked over the miscreants assembled in front of him. Each of them looked as if they were going to go right back to discussing the "spirit" at the first opportunity. Jee didn't know why he even bothered. "This is your final warning. Dismissed."

The sailors went back to their posts in a storm of creaking armor and thumping boots. Jee wondered what strategies they would invent to avoid unpleasant chores. If only they put half as much effort into the things they were _supposed_ to do.

When they had all gone, one sheet of paper remained in the middle of the floor. Jee bent to pick it up and pressed it flat against the mess table.

Curses, another wanted poster. The picture on this on was interesting, at least: conservatively drawn, compared to some of the posters this far out of Pouhai. And it had a sketch of the criminal's weapon, unlike some of the other posters which only offered descriptions, some of which contradicted each other.

Jee looked closer. Two swords, just like…

He _knew_ those swords. They were an exact copy, an unmistakable reproduction of the pair he had seen so many times without really thinking about it. They were tattooed on Zuko's _skin_, damn it, and how many times had he traced the sharp black lines with gentle fingertips while that sneaky little bastard dozed off on his shoulder?'

This week was just full of surprises. Or rather, things that he should have figured out on his own about Zuko a long time ago.

He stuffed the posted into his belt and started up the stairs with a single purpose in mind. It couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true. If it was, it was treason. And yet… what Jee wouldn't have given to have seen it happen.

To think, he believed that Zuko had run out of secrets.

He knocked four times on the prince's cabin door, once in each corner, to say that he was alone. A muffled invitation came from within, and Jee let himself in. Zuko was sitting at his table with a scroll in front of him. His hair was unbound and his feet were bare, making him look for once like a normal young man reading before bed instead of a troubled boy grown old and serious far too soon.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" he asked, as he always did, even when he knew exactly why Jee had come.

Jee drew the wanted poster from his belt like a sword and slapped it down on the table in front of Zuko. "Explain yourself, sir."

Zuko's eyebrow ascended almost to his forehead. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. Tell me what you've been doing."

"I haven't been doing anything." He took the poster, folded it, and tucked it into his clothes. "I don't know where you got the idea that this had anything to do with me, but it doesn't."

He'd been practicing this lie. Normally, catching him in a lie resulted in stammering, followed by anger. His voice was flat and even, but that wasn't enough. His head was juxtaposed directly under the swords on the wall across the room, for crying out loud.

"Yes it does. Tell me."

Zuko glared. What propriety there still was between them was wearing very thin indeed, and Zuko meant for Jee to understand that. "Or what?"

"Or I… will be very disappointed in you, _sir_."

"I'm used to people being disappointed in me. Try harder," he snarled, his carefully-constructed calm showing weak spots at last. He turned back to his scroll. He looked like he was determined to pretend like Jee wasn't still standing in front of him.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Jee sat down across from Zuko and leaned on the tabletop. The paper in Zuko's shirt crinkled whenever he moved a little.

"It must have been fun."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"And it must have been so frustrating to get that close, and then losing everything at the last minute."

"_I don't know what you're talking about_." Zuko did not move his eyes from the scroll. His hands were balled into fists on the edge of the table. The swords gleamed on the wall behind him.

"Of course not. But I bet _whoever_ was behind that opera mask would like to talk about how they came up with the plan. Just with whoever will listen. It must have been a long time in the making. What's _disappointing_ is how close it came to succeeding." Jee leaned closer. "I know I would want to complain to a friend after my plan didn't work."

Zuko slammed both hands onto the table. "Damn it, Lieutenant, I don't want to talk about it!" He looked up sharply, eyes bright and face flushed with anger. Then he seemed to realize that he'd all but confessed and looked away, face rapidly turning an even brighter shade of pink.

Jee shrugged and schooled his face to keep from smiling. "Of course not. Maybe some other time, sir."

He got up. Zuko said nothing, and stayed silent as Jee took his time crossing the short distance from the table to the door. Only when Jee lifted his hand to the hatch did Zuko say anything at all.

"Wait."

Jee paused. The silence was long and heavy between them while Zuko picked his words.

"I guess it must have been really frustrating," the prince said at last, quietly. He took in a deep breath, making all the candles in the cabin shiver in time with it. "Imagine putting all that work in and having it fail."

Jee turned. He sat back down at the table.

_Now we're getting somewhere._


	7. What Comes After

A/N: First things first: you should all check out Princebender, our shiny new Jeeko tumblr. There's fic, art, music, various questions and answers, and lots and lots of NSFW content.

In fact, this chapter is a response to an anon who prompted "Mai and Jee getting along (or even discussing Zuko)." Hope you like it, Anon!

This is postcanon and contains Mai/Zuko. Also basically an expression of all my headcanons, so beware of fanwank.

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><p>"It must be quite an adjustment."<p>

Jee jumped at the proximity of the unfamiliar voice. It was as if she had just appeared out of thin air. He turned to face her—

"Lady Mai!" He bowed hastily. "I didn't expect to see you here. Ever." The guardhouse was not a place fit for a young lady of breeding at the best of times. Its current state of disarray was rather embarrassing, but very little could be done at the moment.

"I came here so we could talk without making a royal event of it," she said.

Jee didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Of course, my lady. My office isn't as chaotic, if you don't mind…"

"Not at all." She gave him a smile that didn't seem to stretch her mouth like a normal smile. He wasn't sure what to take from it. The rest of her face was smooth and blank, betraying nothing of what went on behind her sharp-looking eyes. Damn it, it had taken him long enough to figure _Zuko_ out…

He indicated the way with his cane. Lady Mai's hands remained tucked in her sleeves as they walked. Jee didn't feel too self-conscious of his limping, laborious gait these days, but he did now. The young lady kept pace with him, too slow to be natural for her.

"It is an adjustment," he said to break the tension that might have been only in his mind. "My lady."

"Twenty-five years at sea, seven months in an ice pit up north, and now we have you building a new Royal Guard from scratch," she said, once again with no discernible inflection. "What did you do to deserve this."

"I wonder that every day, my lady." Jee showed her into the office. He winced inwardly as he noticed afresh the half-emptied crates, the unorganized papers on his desk, the ceremonial helmet hanging off the back of his chair, and the cups of room-temperature tea dotted about the room. "I'm afraid I don't entertain much."

Lady Mai's chuckle was quiet and smoky. "Zuko's office is worse." She perched on a crate. "Please sit down. I hope your leg isn't hurting you."

"Thank you." He sat, unconsciously trying not to look _too_ relaxed. "I've gotten used to it."

"What happened?"

"Broke it in the Siege. More specifically, a waterbender broke it by tossing me off a bridge. Then I was a prisoner, and it didn't heal right." He rubbed his thigh. "It's better than it was."

"Oh." Lady Mai's eyes flicked to the side, briefly, and Jee could have sworn he had seen something like uneasiness beneath her cool mask. As if she thought she should express some sort of sympathy, but wasn't sure what would be appropriate. But then she looked up. Once again her face was a closed book. She gave Jee a long stare from beneath her bangs, and then reached one long white hand up to flick an invisible speck of lint from her robe.

He fought the urge to fidget as the silence grew. It seemed that the Firelord and his beloved were equally gifted in the art of conversation.

"I'm sorry we weren't able to talk before now," she said at last. "I was looking forward to it. Zuko's told me a lot about you."

The back of Jee's neck prickled slightly.

"Good things, I hope."

"Yes, lots of them," she replied, suddenly sounding very earnest. "You're one of very few people in the world he _likes_, let alone looks up to."

"Oh." When had Zuko learned to express himself so easily? "He told me about you, a little. He never liked to talk about his life back home. I think he didn't want to get his hopes up, in case he never got to go back."

There _was_ one time that Zuko talked at length about his home. He spoke quickly, like he was anxious to get it all out. Jee hardly dared breathe in case it made him stop. The kid had even shown him a handful of dark, smudgy photographs in glass that he had brought to sea, mostly of his family, but there was one of a sour-looking young girl whom he called his best friend.

"That sounds like him." Her cheeks went a little pink and she looked to one side again. "He also told me… about the two of you. How you were… together."

What could he say to that?

"…Oh." Jee cleared his throat. "Well, I guess that's true."

"I don't mind," Lady Mai said immediately, her eyes widening a bit. She always looked so aloof in public, perhaps even cold, but now the image cracked a little and she looked more like a seventeen-year-old girl. "I mean, it's not uncommon, right? When you spend that much time stuck on a ship together?"

"No. It's not uncommon at all."

Of course, what went on between him and Zuko was a little different (or just more convoluted) than just two shipmates shacking up in the absence of other options. Jee wasn't sure he could describe what exactly the rapport between them was. He was about eighty-four percent sure that it was over, though.

When the Fire Nation and Northern Water Tribe (finally) exchanged prisoners, Zuko found him in the crowd and gave him a big, strong, warm hug. It was all a bit surreal, but even through the pain in his leg and the elation of going home, it felt more like a hug between old comrades and not former lovers. That was the last time they had touched. It had been months. And somehow Jee found that he didn't mind.

"I guess I just wanted to say thank you. For looking out for him." Mai's hands returned to her sleeves, and the icy stare returned to her face. Apparently she had showed enough of her youth and humanity for one day. When she spoke again, her voice was very dry. "You taught him a lot of very useful things."

Jee grinned. "Glad to know he's still putting them to use." She replied with a quick flash of a smile.

"Oh, he is. You're a good teacher, Captain."

She was easy to like, he decided. As long as she decided to like you first. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of her displeasure. It was fortunate that she didn't seem to be jealous or overly-possessive, as if she had any reason to be. Zuko adored her. That much was obvious every time he looked at her.

"Thank you, my lady."

"I can tell you're a patient man."

"Not really."

"You have to be patient to simply put up with Zuko, let alone teach him how to trust people again. And you did it." Mai didn't smile, but her eyes seemed to crinkle a little at the corners. She stood up and turned to leave. "I'm glad he had you. That he _still_ has you."

She left. Jee pushed himself up with his cane and started down the hall.

The Firelord still had him, indeed. And that was why it was time to get back to work.


	8. Three Ficlets: Genderbending

A/N: This was originally just a cracky Princebender thing, but I ended up liking it a lot so I thought I'd post it here too.

I mentioned on Twitter that I had been toying with the idea of genderbent!Jeeko, and then Nele prompted me to write something in which Jee was a woman and Zuko was still a guy. This happened! (And it is slightly sexier than most of the other chapters!)

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><p><strong>1. Age<strong>

"Sir. This _cannot_ continue. It must stop now, before it goes any further."

Zuko ground his teeth and gripped the cold metal railing in front of him. "Nothing happened. There's nothing to _stop_."

"We have to keep it that way."

"There's no reason," Zuko replied, not bothering to keep the snarl out of his voice. He swung his arm wide, indicating the vast expanse of blue ocean around them. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm stuck out here, you're stuck out here, and no one cares where I go or what we do. The Avatar is all that matters. Nothing else."

Lieutenant Jee clasped her hands behind her back and looked away. She said nothing.

Zuko tried to beat back the wave of embarrassment that now threatened to engulf him. What was he even thinking? What reason did she have to say yes? She probably saw him as nothing more than an annoying kid.

If he was being honest with himself, he _was_ an annoying kid.

"Sir, when we kissed…"

"It wasn't just me. It was both of us."

Her eyes flashed when she turned to face him. The frown was deeper and Zuko took that as his cue to shut up.

"Either way," she said. "It has to stop here. It would be _dishonorable_ to involve myself with my commander. Besides, I'm too old for you."

Zuko had a sneaking suspicion that she would have no such reservations if they'd both been male. For all that the laws of the Fire Nation saw no difference between men and women, the people did. He'd heard enough gossip about female officers in port, and for some reason, women always fell harder than men when brought up on fraternization charges.

It wasn't right.

They stood in silence for a few moments, looking out at the endless horizon. Too much to drink, and now they had to have this agonizing conversation. Of course.

Zuko glanced over at her again. "You're not _that_ old," he said.

"I'm a damn sight older than you are, sir, and that's what matters."

"It shouldn't."

"It does."

Zuko frowned. "Fine. If _you_ think it matters, how old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?"

Zuko's tongue froze. He was never good at maintaining conversations, especially with women of any age, but he did know that there was no right answer to this question. If he guessed high, he'd offend her. If he guessed low, she would assume that he was lying. Who knew what would happen if he guessed exactly right.

Against every shred of better judgment he possessed, he decided to go for it anyway.

Her face seemed actually quite young, a few deep wrinkles aside, but her prematurely gray hair looked made her look older. Her hands were rough and aged from work, but she moved with youthful energy. He knew for a fact that she'd been in the Navy longer than he'd been alive, so she was at least thirty-two…

"Thirty-seven," he blurted.

She gave him an odd look, like she hadn't expected him to actually answer, but then she smiled just a little.

"Close. I'll be thirty-nine this winter, sir."

"That's not old," Zuko insisted.

There was a little smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. Zuko couldn't tell if it was flattered, embarrassed, or annoyed and trying to hide it. She shook her head.

"This can't happen. Trust me, sir. It's better this way." She turned and went back to the bridge. Zuko watched her go, both want and frustration growing inside of him as she disappeared from view.

This wasn't the end, he decided. He wasn't just going to let her go like that, not when he could still taste the memory of her kiss on his lips.

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><p><strong>2. Alone at Last<strong>

Generally, Jee preferred lovers with a good many years of experience. People who knew who they were and what they were doing. But corrupting a virgin—particularly a male virgin—was its own kind of fun. A long-term project, which was well enough considering they were going to be stuck on this damn bucket for the rest of their lives.

Zuko smelled nervous. Jee smiled into his neck and ran her thumb down his spine before reaching around to rub his stomach. She couldn't see his face, but he instinctively shifted and reacted to her touch, breath responding to the press of her fingers under his shirt.

"Your esteemed uncle must have taught you about the facts of life, sir," she purred into his intact right ear. She started to undo the toggles on his shirt with the hand that wasn't slowly drifting downward from his navel. "Tell me what he taught you about pleasuring a woman."

"Uh…" Zuko's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "He—he talked a lot about flowers. Rosebuds. He said to, um, be gentle with the rosebuds."

It was all Jee could do to keep from bursting out laughing. Sure, it was better advice than plenty of young men ever got, but General Iroh's penchant for obnoxious floral metaphors would definitely lead to more confusion than clarity for someone as nuance-challenged as Prince Zuko.

"And do you know what he meant by that, sir?"

Zuko hesitated. Jee could feel his blush against her own cheek. His hands moved up and down her own thighs on either side of his body, restlessly, like he would rather touch instead of talk at all. "Not really."

Cute kid.

"Don't worry," she said, and kissed his neck. "I'll teach you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

His skin spiked hot and he drew in a sharp, jagged breath when she caressed the shape of his cock through his loincloth. "Y-yeah," he managed to say.

Oh, she would teach him all right. She'd teach him confidence in his own hands and mouth first and then set him free to indulge all the burning lust and curiosity he so clearly had. She breathed in the scent of his neck again and pictured him when he had a few months of this under his belt. He would grow and bloom and approach sex with the assurance of a man who knew how to handle another's body, but also the insatiable curiosity of a boy who was still discovering something new every time he touched his lover. She pictured his shaved head between her legs, his hands roaming and his eyes closed in concentration.

Zuko let out a desperate gasp when she squeezed. Jee kissed him again, keeping the images of the future in mind. Yes, she'd teach him everything. In due time. Tonight, however, she would take her time with him, touching and teasing until she'd had her fill.

"Don't stop," he breathed.

As if.

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><p><strong>3. Beauty<strong>

Lieutenant Jee did not turn heads when she walked down the street.

Sure, Zuko thought she was a beautiful woman, but if he told her that, she'd just laugh. "Beautiful" implied certain characteristics that did not include a stocky waist or a stubbornly dour expression on a face roughened by years of wind and weather.

But Zuko couldn't shake it out of his head. She _was_ beautiful. Every drop of sweat that cut through the soot on her skin when they trained, every scar on her arms and every callus on her hands. The way she walked, the way she talked, the way she tasted, just like fresh sea air.

He wanted to tell her. He just didn't know how. That seemed to be the theme of their… whatever it was. Zuko never had any idea what to do with this tall and intimidating but warm and _beautiful_ woman who shared his ship and his quest and his bed.

He resolved to say it. He would find an appropriate time and say it.

Sooner than he anticipated, the opportunity presented itself.

All was quiet but the distant rumble of the engines far beneath them. Jee lay back with her arms behind her head and her eyes closed, but she wasn't asleep. She frowned in her sleep, but now her brow was smooth and content. Zuko propped himself up on his elbow and spent a few moments watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, staring sleepily at the bat-swallow tattoo on her ribs.

"Lieutenant."

"Hmm?"

Zuko traced the lines of the tattoo with one finger. "You… are really beautiful."

His face burned, and he felt like an idiot as soon as the words left his mouth, but the corners of Jee's lips perked up just a little. She freed one hand and, without even looking, reached out and rubbed the top of his head.

"So are you, sir."


	9. More Genderbending

A/N: Two more genderbending fics. Unlike the last set, these are not meant to be one unified story, but I felt like posting them together because there are some similar themes.

The first one is straight-up genderbending; Jee and Zuko are both women. Originally posted on Princebender.

The second one is a fic-of-a-fic for "A Rose By Any Other Name" by beckyh2112 and probably won't make a lot of sense if you haven't already read that one. It's cracky but amazing, and also notable for being a "fic with Jeeko" and not really a "Jeeko fic." If that makes sense.

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><p>"You look beautiful!" the General boomed, his voice so full of joy and approval that Jee was half-tempted to outright tell Zuko to let him have his fun. At least pretend to be excited. "Even a young woman in exile should have something nice to wear. And you look very nice, turn around so I can see."<p>

Zuko scowled. She turned slowly, holding her arms out a little and moving as stiffly as a wooden mannequin. She _was_ beautiful, and Jee couldn't help but smile when she looked up from her work on the log book to watch. The new robe was blood-red silk underneath a shorter black over-robe trimmed in a bit of red and black brocade, tied with a narrow black sash. The light from the bridge windows cast a golden frost over the whole ensemble as well as Zuko's hair—her one vanity—which hung long and loose down her back.

"Ah. Lovely." He was beaming as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "You know I love to treat you and your brother. Especially you. You are my favorite niece, after all. I hope you will continue to permit me."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Zuko managed to crack a small smile, but it was strained, and not because of the dress. It wasn't fair to either of them that General Iroh had to be both father and mother and so much more besides.

If only the general knew what had made Zuko change her mind. She'd been so adamantly against getting fitted for a new robe before, stomping around and insisting loudly that such frivolities were a waste of time, money, and cloth.

Spirits, the amount of time Jee had spent telling her how much she liked a dressed-up lady. Telling her that there was nothing wrong with being a feminine girl, if that was what she felt like she wanted to be. Brushing out her hair and telling her over and over again how pretty she was—not that Jee would ever tire of that, but Zuko could only deny it so many times before Jee got frustrated.

"No one's going to take me seriously if I dress like a girl," she had said at last, an admission that at least meant they were getting somewhere.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, _you_ don't." _And people do take you seriously_ hung unspoken between them.

"Sure I do, m'lady. It's just not practical when I'm at sea."

Zuko looked skeptical, but her eyes softened a little at the almost-pet-name Jee only used in private. "Yeah. It's not practical. I don't have a reason."

Jee shrugged. "Make one, then."

Whatever her reason was, she hadn't told Jee. Just went along with it when they stopped in a port with a reputable seamstress and Iroh coaxed her off the ship. No flowers, she was saying as they descended the gangplank. No pink, no bows, no cleavage, and it couldn't be so long that she would trip on it.

And the end result? Gorgeous. Just her colors, just her style, not too frilly but also more relaxed and youthful than anything else she wore. Even the scar didn't look so bad now, with her hair falling naturally instead of scraped back in a severe ponytail. Even if she wasn't too comfortable now, she would get used to it.

Their eyes met. Zuko's smile became a little wider, a little more genuine. Jee smiled back, a warm rush of fondness accompanying it, a sensation that Jee never imagined could be associated with the nightmare Princess Zuko. At least until a few months ago.

"I'm going to change back," Zuko announced.

"Good, good. Wouldn't want to spoil your new dress before you had a chance to wear it out." The General's smile was nostalgic, a little sad, when Zuko turned to leave. Jee silently hoped she wouldn't have to see that look too many more times in her life.

He didn't notice Zuko slip a folded scrap of paper onto Jee's desk as she passed and headed off the bridge and back to her cabin. Jee palmed it and tried to look as innocent as was natural.

"They grow up so fast, Lieutenant," the general said with a sigh.

"I believe you, sir."

He turned back to the window, hands tucked into his sleeves. Jee took the opportunity to peek into Zuko's note.

_I'm not wearing any underwear_, it said, followed by a little happy face.

Naughty minx.

"Sorry, General Iroh, I'm afraid I have to check on the boiler crew. Shall we reschedule pai sho for later in the evening?" She tucked the note into her arm guard.

"Of course, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir."

She closed the log book and headed out. As she descended the rickety stairs toward Zuko's cabin, she relished the image of the kid lounging on her bed with her skirt around her waist and her bare legs bent as if to say _come hither_. Her robe would be open slightly, the sash looped lightly around her wrist in suggestion of what _other_ things they could use it for.

She walked faster. If there was anyone who should be thanking General Iroh for his gift, it was Jee.

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><p>o.O.o<p>

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><p>"Are you sure you want to do this?"<p>

He was. Finally, he was sure, and he was ready.

"Yes." Zuko looked up to meet Jee's eyes. The man was trying not to smile too wide, not to look too proud, but Zuko could see it all over his face.

"All right." He opened the sea chest. The armor was on top, and Zuko felt a thrill—was it fear? Anticipation? Excitement? Who knew, but he gritted his teeth and stepped forward. There it was, smooth leather and gleaming metal, not yet tarnished and scuffed like the other sailors'. It was his, and it was time to take it out.

Iroh seemed impatient for this moment, but he didn't understand, he didn't understand how hard it was for Zuko to go against his father's edict. It was a ball and chain, but Zuko willingly dragged it around every day. Had done so for years. Somehow, Jee understood this.

He lifted out the shoulder plate. It felt dangerous, forbidden.

"Need some help, sir?"

Zuko's voice caught in his throat. "Yes," he said finally.

The word burned. His hands shook. He almost felt sick. This was really happening. He was finally ready. He could do this.

Jee always seemed impatient, even if Zuko had learned that he was anything but. He waited when Zuko needed a break, he stopped when Zuko had to figure out exactly how he should behave in bed with someone, he listened when Zuko rambled, drunk and angry, about how he felt and how he thought he should feel and what he looked like and what he wanted to look like. Now, without a word, he started to take out the pieces of armor and lay them out on the bed. The gray uniform, too, and the socks and boots and underwear that belonged to the boy that Prince Zuko should be.

The boy that Prince Zuko was. Not should be, was.

It all looked so foreign, yet so familiar. Jee held out the loincloth first, and when Zuko put it on, he realized that he still knew how to do it like he knew how to breathe, and he felt like weeping. This was who he was, who he had always been. In the past, and now in the present and future.

"This is right," he murmured. Jee's smile widened.

"Let me help you with your hair, sir."

"Okay."

Jee took a comb and a ribbon. He walked behind Zuko and started combing, coaxing it up, high on the crown of his head, not low like Zuko was used to. He gulped. Jee twisted it and tied it and then there was a solid weight there. A proper topknot at last. He wanted to look in the mirror then, but he didn't. He would wait until it was all over. And then he would see what Prince Zuko looked like.

Jee helped with everything. He instructed Zuko in how to put on the armor by himself, the way to make sure everything was tucked and tied and shipshape. The weight of everything, the way the armor bumped against the backs of his legs and felt stiff on the back of his neck, was like something out of a long-forgotten dream that only the smell of leather and steel on his body could call back again.

It was right.

"Okay," Zuko said. "I'm ready."

Jee kissed him on the lips. "Of course you are."

"How…" Zuko swallowed. "How do I look?"

"Very handsome, Prince Zuko."

He felt like he would melt. Handsome, not beautiful. Prince, not princess. He drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. "I'm ready."

Jee held up the small mirror. Zuko looked for a long time, taking in everything that was still a little alien and frightening but yes, he was handsome, when did that happen? He'd turned into a man, and it had all but escaped his notice until now. His jaw, his shoulders, everything belonged to a man, and the armor and topknot only made that more apparent.

Jee followed him outside once he had looked enough.

The men's faces, when he stepped out as one of them, solidified everything in Zuko's mind. He was a man. And a prince. And handsome. And finally, he knew it.


End file.
